


Put Out The Fire

by karaokegal



Category: CSI: NY, House M.D.
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Crossover, F/M, Het, Humor, Mystery, Sexual Fantasy, Snark, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karaokegal/pseuds/karaokegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murder investigation brings Lindsay to PPTH, where she meets Robert Chase and discovers they have something in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on May 21, 2006. Now a sad reminder of how good both of these shows were at the time. The original plot bunny was inspired by [kohl_rimmed_eye](http://kohl-rimmed-eye.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> Warning: Later chapters include references to underage sex, so don't start the story unless you're willing to go there. I doubt it matters anymore, but spoilers for "Love Hurts" and the 2nd season of House MD in general.
> 
> Apologies for cliche'd use of those lyrics, by the way. At the time there was still some novelty to the fact that it was both the CSI-NY theme and had made a House MD appearance.

Dr. Robert Chase was busy feeling sorry for himself when the police showed up. As if the daily insults and petty indignities that came with working for House weren’t bad enough, he had to suffer through his second winter of relentlessly bone-chilling weather. Temperate zone, they called it. Ha!

“Dr. House?”

He looked up, startled. He’d been sitting at House’s desk trying to understand the intricacies of the yo-yo and hadn’t noticed the man and woman walk into the office.

The man had sandy hair with a cowlick that seemed to be resisting all efforts at taming. Maybe that was why he hadn’t bothered trying to shave properly. He wore a grey suit, glasses and an attitude that screamed “New Yorker”.

“Uh. No, I’m Dr. Chase.”

“Yeah, well we need to talk to you too.”

Chase didn’t have House’s ear for accents, but he’d been on the East Coast long enough to guess that the man hailed from one of the outer boroughs, which meant he had even more attitude than the average New Yorker.

“And you are…?”

Chase could sling a little attitude himself.

“We’re from the NYPD crime lab. I’m Detective Messer and this is Detective Monroe. Do you know where we can find Dr. House?”

Chase made a last attempt to get the toy to co-operate before putting it back in the top drawer. He assumed that House was somewhere in the hospital fighting with Stacy, brooding about Stacy or talking to Wilson about Stacy. He didn’t know exactly where this activity was taking place.

Foreman had been dispatched to do House’s clinic hours while Cameron trolled ICU looking for cases that might pique House’s interest. Chase’s designated task was “circle the wagons and head em’ off at the pass”, which he translated as “Keep Cuddy off my back”. He wasn’t sure if it applied to the police as well. Knowing House, it probably did.

“He’s scheduled to be in the clinic right now,” he answered truthfully. Detective Messer nodded and set off purposefully without asking where the clinic was. Chase tried to keep a straight face. Messer would find Foreman who could then take the hit for leading the cops to House.

Detective Monroe remained in the office. She didn’t strike him as being a New Yorker, much less a member of the NYPD. She seemed too gentle to be either, with brown hair and eyes that could either be nondescript or stunning depending on angle and intent. Maybe some charm would produce the latter.

“You’re a long way from New York.”

“Not as far as you are from Australia. Do you know this woman?” she asked, removing a picture from her pocketbook and handing it to him.

He looked and tried to hide the fact that even her picture could get to him.

“That’s Annette Raines. What does…?”

“She was found dead last night in her apartment on the Upper West side. Strangled. Can I ask how you know her?”

Chase’s mind went haywire.

Annette murdered? Harvey. The parties. Louise. The burns. How much do they know? What are they doing here? What I am going to do? Shit!

He managed to get his mouth to work. His voice came out calm, but concerned.

“She was the friend of one of our patients, Harvey Park…” He started losing it again. “Oh god! Harvey. He won’t be able to function without her.”

“You’ve got that right,” she replied grimly. “He’s completely catatonic.”

“He would never hurt her. He couldn’t. Um…how much do you…?”

“We know,” said Detective Monroe, sparing him from having to discuss the details of Harvey and Annette’s relationship.

The policewoman clearly took her mission seriously. She reminded him of Sister Mary Isabella who had taken it upon herself to cram algebra into his twelve year old mind at St. Bart’s back in Perth.

“We found the file from Harvey’s treatment in Ms. Raines' apartment. When we tried to tell Harvey what had happened the only thing he said was “Call Dr. House.” Then he checked out on us. He’s up at Bellevue right now, but they don’t think he’s coming back any time soon.”

“I don’t know what to say. It may be…have been unconventional, but they really cared about each other.”

“Dr. Chase, I need to ask why your name was in the victim’s phone book?”

Chase could feel his face getting warm. He looked down, unable to meet her eyes as he told her about Louise who like to get burned and the parties where he’d run into Annette Raines a few times. It was the same story he’d told House and the fellows when he had to answer for how he just happened to know that Annette was a dominatrix.

He managed to look up in to Detective Monroe’s eyes. He thought he glimpsed a hint of compassion. Or maybe it was just a professional cover for disgust, which would be compounded if she knew the rest of the story.

“I’ll need the name of the woman you were seeing.”

Chase tried to hide his wince. Louise hadn’t taken his departure well. What would she say?

“Louise Howard. Last I heard she was living in Philadelphia.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Maybe Danny’s doing better with Dr. House.”

“Detective…”

“Yes?”

“Please let me know if you find out. You know…you can’t judge people for something like that.”

“No.” Again the feeling of empathy, maybe even kinship. “Of course not. Which way is that clinic?”

“First floor.”

He watched her leave, a pleasant view from the back. He tried not to think of nuns.

After she was gone, Chase sat down on top of House’s desk. He reached around to the top drawer and took out the yo-yo. That way, if House showed up, he wouldn’t catch him praying for the soul of Annette Raines.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny Messer meets Dr. Greg House.

Danny Messer had been talking to Dr. House for less than five minutes before he decided he wanted to punch him out, cane or no cane.

He was already pissed off by the runaround it took to find the guy in the first place. First the Aussie, who barely looked old enough to be a doctor at all, had sent him to the clinic, where he found not Dr. House, but Dr. Foreman. Foreman was polite, but clearly had his own issues with the cops, no matter how smoothly he tried to hide it. Foreman claimed not to know where House was, and shrugged when Danny asked why he was doing another doctor’s clinic hours. 

“Hey, I’m gonna talk to House if I have to search this whole hospital,” he threatened.

Foreman just rolled his eyes and said he’d page Dr. Cameron. Danny expected to get another one of the three stooges. Dr. Cameron turned out to be easier on the eyes than Moe or Larry, but no more helpful in getting him to Dr. House. She led him on a pointless tour of the hospital, while babbling inanely about how busy Dr. House was and how many consults he was doing. Finally Danny couldn’t take her nervous chatter any more.

“What the hell kind of hospital is this?” he exploded, having arrived back on the first floor in front of an office door that said “Dr. Lisa Cuddy-Hospital Administrator”.

The door opened and a tall brunette in a business suit and a pair of high heels that also meant business stomped out.

“It’s one of the top five teaching hospital in the United States according to the Journal of the American Medical Association. Now what’s going on here?”

“I’m Detective Messer from the NYPD crime lab. I’m looking for Dr. House and no one,” he looked at pointedly at Dr. Cameron, “seems to want to tell me where he is.” 

“Right,” said the brunette Amazon, sounding exasperated, but not surprised. “OK, Dr. Cameron, I’ll take it from here.” Her dismissive tone made Dr. Cameron seem like a rebellious teenager. Danny practically expected her to say, “But mom…” before she went off to her bedroom to sulk. 

Dr. Cuddy wasted no time taking him back up to the second floor and leading him to an office, which happened to be right next to Dr. House’s office where he’d started this wild goose chase. 

She walked into the office without knocking, causing two men to look up guiltily from a game of Chinese checkers. One was behind the desk, looking every inch the well-groomed doctor out of a soap opera. The other had at least three days worth of beard growth and wore a somewhat battered tweed jacket over an Original Ray’s Pizza t-shirt.

Danny turned to the clean-shaven one. 

“Dr. House?” he said hopefully and got a headshake in response.

Dr. Cuddy addressed the man that Danny had taken for a patient or a bum. 

“Dr. House. This is Detective Messer from the New York Police Department. He’s going to talk to you.”

House started reciting, “In the criminal justice system, the people are represented…”

“And you’re going to co-operate,” Cuddy cut him off.

“But what if he tries to rough me up?” House asked imitating a whining child.

“Then you’ll come down to the clinic and we’ll treat you,” Cuddy said, before executing a sharp turn and leaving. 

Young Dr. Handsome made to get up as well.

“Come on Wilson, don’t you want to find out why the NYPD is about fifty miles out of their jurisdiction?”

“See you later,” said Wilson, hurriedly grabbing a handful of files before beating a hasty retreat, leaving Danny alone with his quarry. 

“Do you guys even have enough money in the budget to cover the gasoline?”

Danny counted to ten and then did it backwards.

“Dr. House, I need to ask you about one of your patients.”

“Buzz. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Thanks for playing.”

“Wrong game, Doc. We’ve already seen the file. Do you remember a guy named Harvey Park? You saved his life by figuring out that there was an infection in his jaw.”

House picked up the cane that had been hooked over the side of the chair. Danny could see the mind working. He looked like a bum, but the blue eyes were sharp and alive.

“Did Annette start strangling him again? I told those crazy kids to behave themselves. No asphyxiation until marriage.”

“Obviously you know about Annette and Harvey and their…arrangement?”

“She ties him up He does her taxes. Ain’t love grand.”

“Annette was found strangled last night. Harvey’s medical file was in her apartment. Any idea why?”

“She’d already read “The DaVinci Code” and was looking for something with a better plot? How’s Harvey taking it?”

“He’s not doing so good.”

“Which means what? He’s got a headache, his tummy hurts?”

“He’s in Bellevue. The doctors say he’s completely catatonic.”

“Police brutality?”

There weren’t enough numbers. 

“Could you lay off the razzing for two seconds? I’m asking for your help here.”

“It must be exhausting playing good-cop/bad-cop all by yourself.”

“When we told Harvey about Annette, he started crying. Then he said “Call Dr. House.” And then he didn’t say anything. Any idea why he’d tell us to talk to you before he shut up permanently?”

House finally appeared to be taking him seriously. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pill bottle. He stared at the label as if the answers would appear there, before looking up at Danny.

“Can I see Harvey’s file from Bellevue.”

“It’s not your case.”

“Then make it my case. Bring him here.”

“No way that’s gonna happen. He’s staying in New York.”

House raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, can’t help you.”

Danny felt his hands balling up into fists in his pockets. House was more interested in his games than helping solve a murder.

“A woman was killed.”

“And the guy who might know something can’t talk to you. If I can get him to talk, you might be able to solve your murder. Everybody wins.”

House actually made this insanity sound logical to Danny until he imagined himself trying to sell it to Mac. Yeah. That would go over.

“We’ll be in touch, Dr. House.”

“But will you love me tomorrow?”

Danny left the office with the beginning of an almighty headache. He wondered if he could score some aspirin back at the clinic. He wouldn’t mind scoring something else from that Dr. Cuddy either. She had a major league set of…

“Danny.”

“Huh? Hey, Montana. Let’s get out of here. We gotta get back to the city and traffic’s gonna be a bitch on the turnpike.”

“OK. What are you leering at?”

“Who me? I’m just looking for some aspirin.”

“I’ve got some in the glove compartment. I’ll drive.”

“You’re a saint on earth, but I’m not listening to any more of that country music crap.”

They settled on the local sports station. Danny told Lindsay about his less than illuminating encounter with Dr. House.

“I couldn’t believe that guy. What an ego. The best guys at Bellevue can't get through to Park and he’s like, just bring him down here to the middle of bum fuck Egypt and I’ll fix him.”

“He’s supposed to be a brilliant doctor.”

“I think he’s a bullshit artist who gets lucky sometimes. Mr. Freako isn’t leaving New York until he sits up and tells us who killed his leather queen.”

“Danny,” she replied with a disapproving sigh.

Danny knew he wasn’t supposed to feel that way. He’d been to the sensitivity training. Just another lifestyle, they told him. But every time they had one of these freaky, kinky sex cases it made his skin crawl and tied his stomach up in knots.

“So how did it go with Dr. Doogie from down under?”

“He met Annette at some parties. He says he knew a girl who was into the scene.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? "The Scene.” What did he do exactly?”

Lindsay shrugged, almost like the New Yorker, she might become if she stayed around long enough.

“He didn’t get specific. He just knew this girl and they met Annette at some parties and that’s how he ended up in her phone book.”

“A dominatrix who networks. Great.”

He noticed a smile on Lindsay’s face. 

“You liked him? He told you something and you’re holding out on me cos’ you liked him?”

“I didn’t say I liked him. It was just nice to question someone who wasn’t a total sleazebag for a change. He’s a doctor. He was polite.”

“He’s a pretty boy.” Danny scoffed, feeling an unwelcome mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. “And he must have been into some kinky stuff to meet the vic, so you should steer clear of him.”

Lindsay took her eyes off the road long enough to fix Danny with that Sweet Polly Purebred smile that made him feel a little mushy inside.

“You think people don’t have kinky sex in Montana?”

Danny closed his eyes and tried to believe she was just saying that to mess with him. He wound up dozing off. When he woke up, they were halfway to Manhattan, the radio was back playing country music and Lindsay was still smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You think people don't have kinky sex in Montana?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the graphic, under-age, and BDSM stuff kicks in. Last chance to turn around.

After three days, the Annette Raines investigation had had hit a dead end, or at least a catatonic one.

Hawkes and Hammerback had spent an abundance of time with the corpse and all they could provide was the approximate time of death and the fact that the dominatrix had been strangled with the sash from her black silk robe, which the killer had been kind enough to leave on the doorknob with no helpful fingerprints or trace evidence. 

Stella had collected prints, hair, epithelials and various other forms of DNA from the victim’s apartment. Stella found it worth mentioning that the samples came from every part of the apartment except the bedroom. Annette’s bed had been devoid of any physical evidence except for her own hair on the pillow. Clients hadn’t been allowed to cross that particular threshold.

Flack pointed that out that this was true, if you didn’t count Harvey’s cage at the foot of Annette’s bed. 

Running down the samples was an exercise in futility. Annette must have chosen her clientele more carefully than most New York restaurants screened their employees. AFIS was a bust. The only two CODIS hits led to a nurse who’d been working the night of the murder, and a real estate broker. 

Danny liked the Trump wannabe for the murder just on general “rich, kinky guy without an alibi” principles. Lindsay pointed out that he’d looked genuinely distraught by the news of Annette’s death and the first word’s out of his mouth after a few variations on “Oh my god, that’s horrible, I don’t believe it!” had been “Is Harvey OK?”

After they’d finished running down the contacts from the vic’s phone book, all they could do was report to Mac that they had nothing. 

“This chick was the Sara Lee of the “tie me up, tie me down” set. Nobody didn’t like her,” announced Danny with an aggravated sigh.

“And they all knew about Harvey and Annette,” Lindsay added. “They moved up here after the surgery on Harvey’s jaw. I guess they found it easier to be here than in Philadelphia.”

“I guess the City Of Brotherly Love doesn’t extend it to sex freaks.”

Mac fixed them both with one of those looks that Lindsay still couldn’t quite read after nearly a year. She didn’t know if he had any opinion whatsoever about the lifestyle of the victim or Danny’s less than PC take on said lifestyle. She knew he wanted results and so far they weren’t providing any.

“You’re going to Bellevue,” he said matter of factly.

“Hey, Mac, I know this job gets to me sometime, but it’s not that bad.”

“I don’t mean that and I don’t mean you.” His gaze focused on Lindsay. “Mr. Park is being transferred to Princeton Plainsboro.”

“Are you nuts?” Danny exploded. “He’s the only one who might know something that could help us.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Mac, his face reflecting only a fraction of the annoyance he must be feeling. “But your friend, Dr. House, got the hospital’s counsel to make some phone calls. She managed to get Senator Wright to call the Governor who called the Mayor.”

“So now we’re letting Bloomberg’s office push us around?”

“I don’t like this any more than you do, but Park isn’t doing us any good in his current condition. Maybe this Dr. House can figure out how to get him talking. Lindsay, go home and pack a bag. You’re going to ride down in the ambulance and then stay with Park. If he has anything to say, I want you to be the first to hear it.”

“I think I should go with her,” Danny protested.

“No. You and Stella go back to the apartment. Talk to everybody.”

“Stella and Flack already did that.”

“Then do it again.”

“But…”

Lindsay tuned it out. Danny was like a child who needed his father’s discipline. She smiled at the word “discipline”.

 

The ride to Princeton was uneventful, punctuated only by the EMTs bitching about the Jets, the Mayor, and eventually the weather. _Wimps_ , she thought. _Try getting through a Montana winter with four months of snow and freezing temperatures and you still have go out there and do your chores. Then come whining to me about your wind-chill factor._

“You think people don’t have kinky sex it Montana.” The look on Danny’s face had been priceless. And he didn’t know a tenth of it.

Lindsay had been a typical ranch kid who loved riding, excelled at roping and learned to be stoic about branding. She’d also been a bookworm who started reading lurid “true crime” books as soon as she realized that nothing interesting was ever going to happen to Nancy Drew.

She spent winter vacation of her senior year dreaming of getting away, even if it was only as far as Montana State College in Billings. 

She’d been curled up with the latest Ann Rule book when her dad asked her to ride out and look for a foal that had gone missing. It was one of those winter afternoons when the sun could blind you without providing any heat at all.

Without realizing it, she’d ridden out to the far west side of the Monroe ranch. She looked through her binoculars, scanning for any sight of the foal. Instead she found herself looking directly at the window of the house next door. The winter sun was rendering the curtains translucent. 

The house belonged to Jenny and Sam Wellstone. It had been in Jenny’s family for years. Jenny had left for San Francisco back in the 70’s and come back with her husband to take over the property after her father died. Lindsay didn’t know them as well as her other neighbors, but she’d seen them in town, at the county fair, even at church. 

She certainly never expected to see Jenny Wellstone looking like something out of one those magazines her older brother Brian didn’t think she knew he kept in a box in his closet. All she had on was a lacy black bra, stockings and high heels. Not even a pair of panties to cover herself. She’s going to freeze to death, thought Lindsay before her brain registered what was going on. 

At first she thought Jenny was holding her hands behind her back, but another look through the binoculars showed her that Jenny’s arms were tied together with something. 

Lindsay wanted to ride home and tell the police. Obviously, some horrible sex crime was occurring, just like in the books she read. Jenny was being tortured by an intruder who was going to do horrible things to her. 

Then she saw Sam wearing jeans and a white shirt which was unbuttoned. She could see his smooth chest. She watched as he embraced his wife and started kissing her passionately, his hands grabbing at her long, straight blonde hair to pull her even closer.

The kiss burned Lindsay’s eyes through the binocular lenses. She could see that even in her exposed state Jenny was no victim. She continued watching, unable to stop herself, as Sam unbuttoned his Levi’s and pushed his wife to her knees. 

The burning in her eyes moved into her cheeks and kept going down until it reached the space between her legs. She must have accidentally spurred her horse, because Jasper reared up and whinnied loudly. She barely avoided being thrown and concentrated on calming her horse and herself. When she looked back at the house, the sun had moved and she could no longer see what was happening on the other side of the curtains. 

By the time she made her way home, the foal had shown up at the stable of its own accord. Jimmy took the opportunity to deride her tracking skills and her fascination with crime and criminology. “Some detective. Can’t even find a lost foal.” Lindsay blushed, but the color had nothing to do with the jibes of her bratty younger brother. 

_The next time she saw them was at the county fair in the spring. Jenny was sitting in the bleachers watching a cuttin’ horse competition. She wore jeans and a denim jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and through the back of a San Francisco Giants baseball cap. In Lindsay’s mind she was still clothed only in her undergarments with black silk holding her wrists together behind her back. The image was so powerful that she could barely speak, but she had to. She’d gotten a glimpse at another world and she wanted to see more._

_“Hi, Mrs. Wellstone.”_

_“Hello Lindsay, how’s it going? Your mom and dad here?”_

_Lindsay struggled to find the words to make Jenny Wellstone see her as something besides Roger and Caroline Monroe’s daughter, the girl next door._

_“What’s it like?” she asked, emphasizing the word “like”.._

_“Excuse me?” replied Jenny, looking confused._

_Lindsay looked around before briefly placing her wrists together behind her back._

_“I saw you.”_

_Jenny’s eyes opened in fear and then tightened in what must have been sheer terror. Lindsay hurried to explain herself._

_“I want to know what that’s like. I want to be there. I want to do it.”_

_Mrs. Wellstone attempted to talk without moving her lips._

_“Are you trying go get us arrested or just killed?”_

_“No. I want to…”_

_At the point, Mr. Wellstone showed up with two sno-cones. He also wore typical western attire. Lindsay could see that he was muscular, but leaner than most of the men she knew. They’d all started going to fat in their mid-thirties. Sam Wellstone had a receding hairline, but this just made his face look more mature and serious. His dark eyes knew things._

_Jenny took her husband aside and whispered something. His immediate reaction matched his wife’s. “Are you crazy?” she heard him hiss. The whispers continued. Finally, Mr. Wellstone turned and looked at her. She felt as exposed before his gaze as Jenny had been on her knees in the living room._

_“How old are you.”_

_“Seventeen. That’s legal in this state.”_

_“Only with another teenager. Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?”_

_“I think so,”_

_“You think so?” he made her flinch with his intensity, but never raised his voice. “This isn’t New York or LA. This is Hingham, Montana and every man in Hill County has a shotgun. If they even thought I was looking at you funny, much thinking of something like this…”_

_“I’m not trying to make trouble.”_

_“You are trouble, Lindsay. You’re playing with fire.”_

_“I know,” she whispered, trying to show that she took this seriously._

_Sam looked into her eyes, making her shiver in the heat of the day. He must have seen something there to make him take the enormous risk. Lindsay found her parents and brother standing in line for the tilt-a-whirl and told them she gotten sick from eating too much and that Mr. and Mrs. Wellstone were going to drive her home._

_That’s how it started._

_The first time they just had her sit and watch as Sam instructed his wife to undress down to the black, lacy things that had haunted Lindsay’s imagination for months. She felt the familiar burning in her body as Sam tied his wife’s hands behind her back with a black silk scarf and put a black leather collar studded with small jewels around her neck. Oh god. How did I not notice the collar? she wondered, desperately wanting to feel leather around her own sensitive neck._

_The second time, her hands were tied, but so loosely that she could easily undo the knots if she wanted to. The sight of the couple kissing held her in place more tightly than any restraints._

_Over the course of the summer, the knots tightened, what she saw grew more intimate and Lindsay grew to understand what Sam Wellstone meant by playing with fire. Her body was constantly aware of what she’d seen, what had been done and how much more she wanted._

_Sam never touched her in deference to his marriage and the statutory rape laws of Montana. It was always Jenny tying her hands and legs, putting on the blindfolds, touching her, teaching her, always at Sam’s direction._

_Sam would talk to her while she was blindfolded telling her how beautiful she was, what he wanted to do to her, what he wanted others to do while he watched. She’d find herself squirming to the sound of his voice and begging to have one hand freed. Instead she was left to squirm and gasp and finally realized she didn’t even need to touch herself when the stimulus was that powerful._

_The last time she saw them was her eighteenth birthday. Lindsay had come straight from her own birthday party, still wearing a pretty sundress that she knew would please Sam._

_Sam met her at the door in his usual jeans and crisp white shirt. He led her to the bedroom, which was usually off-limits to her. She hoped this meant he was now willing to take what she so desperately wanted to give him. Instead he picked his car keys and said he was going out for a drive. He indicated the bed where Jenny was lying, this time stark naked, except for the collar and a pair of handcuffs. They had an old-fashioned four poster and one of her hands was cuffed to a post._

_Sam opened the top drawer of a large dresser. He took out a paddle that Lindsay had seen him use on Jenny before. Sam handed Lindsay the paddle and the key to the cuffs. He told her that Jenny was a bad girl. That she was jealous of Lindsay’s youth and beauty. He was trusting Lindsay to provide discipline._

Or maybe that was the fantasy that Lindsay made up and embellished to keep herself warm during those long winter nights.

She was starting to sweat inside the ambulance, as they approached the hospital, even though it was pouring outside. 

The Bellevue EMTs traded greetings and paperwork with the PPTH orderlies as Harvey Park was turned over to his new keepers. Lindsay stayed in the background watching until everything was hooked up and she was alone with Harvey, who still wasn’t talking.

Where was House, she wondered, shifting in her not particularly comfortable chair, during the second hour of her lonely vigil. If he was so sure he could make Harvey wake up and talk, why wasn’t he in the patient’s room getting on with it?

“Stay with him,” Mac had instructed and Lindsay had no intention of letting the boss down, no matter how long it took.

Her mind started wandering back to Montana and a string of disappointing boyfriends. Young men with cowboy hats, glib smiles and the emotional depth of a cow patty. They had no clue about her inner fire and she instinctively knew better than to share it.

Lindsay kept looking into men’s eyes searching for another Sam Wellstone. So far, she hadn’t found him. Danny was cute, but her flirtation was just a game. He had his own demons and they could never co-exist with hers. 

“Detective Monroe. I see you got our patient here safe and sound”

She looked up at the sound of an Australian accent.

“Hello, Dr. Chase.”

He was wearing a lab coat over a blue shirt and tan slacks. The blonde hair falling over his forehead still made him look young, but when she looked into his blue-green eyes, she felt a tug. 

She remembered Danny pulling his older brother act. “You need to stay away from that guy.”

She looked at Dr. Chase again. He was checking monitors and pretending not to be watching her watching him. She saw possibilities.

“It looks like I’ll be here for awhile. You might as well call me Lindsay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snark gratia snark.

House stood by the whiteboard using his cane in place of a microphone as he addressed the multitude, or at least his captive audience of three. 

“Lady and so-called gentlemen, for your diagnostic pleasure, in his long awaited return to the ICU, let’s give a big PPTH welcome to Harvey Park!”

The team refused to play along. Cameron look stunned, Foreman glowered suspiciously and Chase was feigning indifference.

House returned the cane to its usual position and leaned on it heavily.

“You call that a welcome? Come on people. If Harvey hears that deafening silence, he’s gonna walk out on us. Or he would, if he could hear anything or walk anywhere.”

“Harvey Park?” Foreman repeated. The guy with the infected jaw and the interesting social life?”

“That’s him.”

“What did his dominatrix friend do to him now?”

“Whatever’s wrong with Harvey this time, I think we can eliminate Annette as the cause.”

“Why?” Cameron wanted to know, having finally found her voice. She seemed unhappy with the reappearance of Harvey Park. House and Cameron’s date of doom had occurred while they were treating Harvey, but it hardly seemed fair to blame him. House wasn’t proud of his behavior, but it had been the right thing to do. Cameron was displaying symptoms of growing a spine, which would never have happened if he hadn’t shattered any illusions she might have had about him or herself. 

House resumed his role as Master of Ceremonies.

“Dr. Cameron wants to know why we can rule out Annette Raines and her vast array of cunning stunts. Take it away, Dr. Chase.”

He knew that Huey, Dewey and Louie went out of their way not to laugh at his witticisms. Maybe they considered it a form of rebellion against being at the beck and call of a madman. This time House detected a twinkle and a barely suppressed grin on the face of young Dr. Chase.

“Annette Raines was found murdered three days ago,” Chase picked up the tale as directed. “She and Harvey were living in Manhattan. The police found Harvey’s medical file in the apartment. When they told Harvey about the murder and tried to get any information out of him, he told them to call Dr. House. Then he went catatonic and passed out. Hasn’t said anything since.”

“Coma?” asked Cameron. 

Chase shook his head.

“He’s breathing on his own, but that’s about it.”

The light was dawning on Foreman.

“That’s why that cop wanted to find you.”

“Yeah. And you three geniuses led him right to me.” Cameron was clearly about to protest her innocence. House waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. I had fun with Joe Friday, Junior. Maybe he’s up for another round. Chase, is Detective Scruffy down there with the patient?”

“No. The other one. Detective Monroe,” Chase replied, not bothering to comment on the hypocrisy of House calling anyone else scruffy. 

“Does this one know how to shave?”

“I dunno. This one’s a woman.”

This time, House was positive about Chase twinkling, but he didn’t know if Chase was happy about knowing something House didn’t or about the fact of the lady cop."

“So, more like Cagney or more like Lacey?”

Chase stared in confusion. Either he was too young or too Australian. 

“OK, people. Let’s go?”

“Where?” asked Foreman, perplexed.

“Down to see the patient, of course. Gotta say ‘Hi Harvey, how’s tricks? Still getting off on pain and humiliation? I thought so.’"

“But he’s catatonic,” Cameron pointed out. “He can’t tell us anything.” 

“Well then he can’t lie to us, can he?” The three blind mice were staring at him as though he’d just stepped of a space ship and said 'Klaatu Barata Nikto' “Maybe I just want to meet a chick with a gun and handcuffs.” House planted the cane and took a firm step forward. “Come on kids. It’s show time.”

On the way to the elevator, Wilson joined them for no apparent reason. 

House led his merry band to Harvey’s room in ICU, where they found Harvey still not talking. He was being watched by a blonde woman. Her posture in the chair reflected boredom and fatigue. She snapped to attention at the sound of House’s cane and turned around to face the group. 

Young and pretty, House thought. A little too all-American-girl for his jaded tastes, but certainly worth taking a look at. 

He stared at her with a goofy, open-mouthed gape of pseudo-lust, deliberately holding it long enough to annoy Cameron, Chase and maybe even Wilson, although not the subject of the gaze, who appeared to take it stride.

“Wow. I was wrong. It’s not Cagney or Lacey. It’s Pepper Anderson.”

The blonde nodded, but didn’t get offended or flustered. She’d heard it before. 

“You must be Dr. House.”

“I’m much taller in person. Everybody says it.”

“And that’s Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron. I’ve already met Dr. Chase. And that’s…?”

Wilson charged forward to introduce himself. That figured. Just his type. Female and breathing. 

“I’m Dr. Wilson. I run the oncology department.”

“You think he has cancer?” she asked, clearly skeptical.

“Gotta check every possibility,” House assured her, before dispatching the team on various errands including more blood work, reflex tests and scheduling a CAT Scan.

He kept one eye on Pepper, noting how smoothly she managed to stay out of the way, while observing the hubbub of activity that had broken out around her. He approved, but that didn’t mean she was avoiding a full-scale House-party either.

“So, Detective, what happened? Your bully boys get over-enthusiastic with their nightsticks? Taser? Brass knuckles?”

She ignored him with a barely perceptible tightening of the jaw.

“Do you think you can get him talking?”

“I can get him better. Whether he wants to talk to you is his business.”

House noticed that Pepper was smiling past him, practically twinkling. Probably at Wilson, he thought with a mixture of pride and mild envy. 

At that moment, Foreman returned with Wilson right behind him. 

“OK, we’ve got the CAT scan scheduled. Let’s get him up to C.T.” 

Wilson gave House a nod as if to say “nothing more I can do here.” although House wasn’t sure if he was giving up on Harvey Park or Policewoman. 

If she hadn’t been twinkling at Wilson, then who was the lucky recipient?

Foreman and Chase were getting Harvey’s bed ready to move and Detective Whatsername seemed awfully interested. As they wheeled Harvey out the room, House caught Chase stealing a parting glance at Police Woman, complete with a shy adolescent smile.

House felt a malicious grin creeping across his face. Pepper and Chase. Blonde and Blonder. The possibilities for amusement spread out before him like the buffet at a Jewish wedding. 

Police Woman took a step to leave. House put down the cane to block her.

“I’m staying with him,” she announced. 

“He’s not waking up during a CT scan.”

“Is he waking up at all?” she challenged.

“Fifty bucks says he’s talking in twenty-four hours.”

“You’re betting on a patient’s recovery?”

House relished the outrage in her eyes. She was even flaring her nostrils in indignation. Awesome. He shoots. He scores. 

“I know about you.”

“From your partner or my foot soldier with the funny accent?”

“Either way. I know you’re supposed to be brilliant, but you have the social skills of a baboon.”

“And what do you think, Pepper?”

“Are you going to let me go to CT?”

House moved aside with a great show of deference.

“I think you’re going to start calling me Detective Monroe.” She walked to door, before turning around, with a smile. “And I think it’s going to more than twenty-four hours for you to re-run all the tests they did at Bellevue, because you think that doctors other than yourself are idiots. So I’ll take your bet.”

House watched her leave. Feisty He liked that. He reached for the Vicodin in his pocket, more out of habit than need. This was turning out to be a good day. He now had the challenge of getting Harvey talking in twenty-four hours, so he could win the bet and the opportunity to torture Chase and Detective Monroe about their attraction to eachother, especially if they weren’t completely aware of it yet. 

He stared at the Vicodin and finally decided to take it so that one of his babies wouldn’t feel rejected. 

They’d make a cute couple, he thought vaguely. At least their numbers would match up. And they did seem to have chemistry.

Chemistry That was it. The heck with Chase’s love life. He needed to order some more labs on Harvey. Chemistry would answer everything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here come da smut!

Lindsay gaped at her watch. 1:25AM. She could barely make it out, barely keep her eyes open. **Come on, Detective Monroe. You can do this.** She tried to pep talk herself using Mac’s stern voice. That worked for all of five minutes before her eyelids started fluttering again.

The next time she opened them, Dr Chase was checking Harvey’s monitors and writing something on a chart. Then he yawned.

“Please don’t do that. If you yawn, then I’m going to yawn, and if I yawn, I’ll close my eyes and…”

“Lindsay, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen here tonight.”

“Where’s House?”

“He went home hours ago. He’s ordered extra niacin, potassium and iron, plus electrolytes.”

Lindsay tried to make sense of that.

“He thinks Harvey’s problem is malnutrition?” 

“I dunno. House has that look like he knows something, but we’re all too stupid to bother telling.”

Lindsay nodded until she felt a yawn wracking her entire body. 

“Have you had anything to eat?” Robert asked.

“Apple. Couple of hours ago. I just need some caffeine.”

“No,” he said firmly, “You need food and sleep. Doctor’s orders.” His voice was firm, but the smile cut through her protests. “Tell you what, there’s an all-night Mexican place out on the interstate.”

“Mexican food in New Jersey?” Lindsay was dubious.

“I didn’t say it was good. I just said it was cheap, fast and open all night.”

“If Danny were here he’d make a dirty joke.”

“So would House, but he’s not here, so let’s go.”

After a taco salad and large diet Coke, Lindsay felt immeasurably better. Since she was pre-occupied with Dr. Robert Chase sitting on the other side of a dangerously rickety table, she decided to ignore the hookers and tweakers occupying the other tables.

She gave herself permission to focus on Robert’s accent, his sweet smile, and the way he was not quite looking at her as he chewed on the straw from his own beverage. Then the diet Coke kicked in and she remembered Mac saying, “Stay with him.”

“I should really get back,” she murmured.

“I’d like to see you try,” he challenged.

“My boss said…”

“Is your boss a jerk?”

“No. That would be your boss,” she pointed out. “Mac expects a lot from his people, but he lets us do our jobs without demeaning us or treating us like crap. Why do you put up with that?”

Robert looked down as if he’d find the answer in a half-eaten quesadilla. 

“He’s a brilliant doctor.”

“That gives him the right to be abusive?”

“He’s in pain.”

“Mac Taylor’s wife was in Tower 1 on 9/11. She didn’t get out. He lives with that every day and still manages to treat his employees with dignity.”

He looked into her eyes, even though he had no answer but a shrug. His right hand was inches away from hers on the table. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and grasped firmly.

“Maybe you’re just a masochist.” She said, drawing out the last word teasingly.

She heard Robert take a deep breath.

“Maybe you are too?” he asked with a curious rising inflection.

“Tell me about Annette,” she continued in her playful tone, sliding her left hand against his, until her fingers were lying on his arm, just under the cuff of his shirt.

“Is this an interrogation, Detective Monroe?”

“It’s a conversation, Dr. Chase.”

“I think it’s a seduction, Lindsay.”

She turned his right hand over and placed hers on top of it.

“But who’s seducing whom, Robert?” He took control of her hands, squeezing gently, until it was Lindsay’s turn to need an extra breath. “Everybody we talked to liked Annette. Grown men cried when we told them she was dead. You’d think someone who made a living out of pain would have an enemy and we couldn’t find any. I need to know why not.”

“For your boss?”

“For me. No notebook, no tapes and I’m probably too tired to remember anything you tell me anyway.”

“That must be how you get your murder confessions.” He held her hands tightly. “Annette could read people, make them accept things about themselves.”

“What did you have to accept?”

Robert bit down on his lower lip, but held her gaze.

“I had to get it through my thick skull that only a masochist would be in a relationship with Louise, because she was completely controlling me even when I was the one inflicting pain. Annette called me a bottom in top’s boots. A bit of S&M humor, that was.” Robert’s smile was rueful. 

She tried to show him that she wasn’t scared or offended. Under the table, her legs were pressed together tightly. “I had some sessions with her. She hurt me just enough to teach me what I could and couldn’t stand and that I needed to get away from Louise before we destroyed each other.”

“Wow!” Lindsay was lost in arousal and admiration. She could almost feel herself falling for the dead woman. 

“But there was something else.”

“What?” Lindsay’s palms were sweating. Robert didn’t seem to notice.

“There was this scary bloke named Bernard. I used to see him at the parties sometimes. Boots. Leathers. He looked like he could break you in two and throw the bits away with one hand. I went to Annette’s for a session and Bernard was there. So I thought, this is it. This bastard's gonna have his way with me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I was shaking like a leaf.”

Lindsay felt a tremor go through her body, especially her hands. Robert must have felt it and understood what she’d been trying to tell him, why she wanted to hear this.

“What did he do to you?”

“Better to ask what I did to him,” Robert said with a dangerous grin. “Annette said Bernard needed punishment and she wanted me to help.”

“Oh my god,” Lindsay closed her eyes tightly.

“I made him scream,” Robert practically crooned, drawing out the word “scream” until Lindsay thought she’d pass out then and there. 

“Your place,” she managed to whisper. Her mouth was dry, but her panties felt wet enough to mop the New Jersey Turnpike.   
*****  
It was all she could do to keep her hands off Robert or herself during the drive to his apartment. She kept thinking of his voice when he said the word “scream” and how much she’d wanted to reach up and brush the hair out of his face, but didn’t because she couldn’t bear to break the contact with his hands. Now she sat on her own hands, eyes tightly shut, living her own “tied to a chair fantasy” envisioning what Robert was going to do to her. 

Her usual sane, reasonable self tried to ask what the hell she thought she was doing, opening herself up this way to a man she barely knew, and found itself shouted down by a chorus of lust surging through her bloodstream.

Lindsay had no idea where she was when they got out of the car. There was a door and stairs and another door and finally Robert’s arms around her, pulling them together, and soft lips and a tongue invading her mouth.

She let him half-lead, half-carry her to the bedroom, both of them shedding clothes along the way. A fleeting thought _Danny, if you could see “Montana” now._ and then she was in Robert’s bed, naked, hotter than she could remember being in her whole life. She threw her arms over her head, wrists together to make sure he understood.

“How much do you need?” he asked gently.

“Restraints. Words. No marks.”

“Safe word?”

She thought a second. “Fire.”

He used his tie to bind her wrists in the same position she’d been holding them. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. 

She complied, every inch of her body vibrating. She sensed the weight of Robert getting into the bed and then he was on top of her, kissing her as though he could feast on her mouth forever. She’d said “no marks”, but the taste of him, the feeling of those soft lips nibbling hers over and over, would mark her more deeply than any bruises. When he left her mouth to start tracing a row of kisses down her neck, she groaned with frustration.

“Shall I put something else in there?” She could hear the smile in his voice, but groaned even more at the idea. 

When his lips clamped over her nipple and his tongue started swirling against the most sensitive spot, she let out a squeal of delight, waves of pleasure coursing through her body, as she arched up wanting more.

Robert immediately withdrew.

“You need to show some self-control. Can’t have you hitting the jackpot till I say so.” His voice was matter-of-fact, with the hint of a threat. “Can you behave or not?” 

She nodded, straining against the tie, squirming in the bed, desperate to feel him near her again.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be good.”

“All right. Let’s try it again.”

This time it was her left nipple, his lips, tongue and teeth working together until her legs started thrashing and she couldn’t hold back a scream.

Again, he backed off, leaving her body yearning.

“What am I going to do with you Lindsay?” He lay beside her,, grasping her by the shoulders until her breathing had slowed down and her body had stopped shaking. “Badbadbadbad girl,” he muttered, kissing his way down her body, moving between her legs, spreading her open. 

When his mouth touched her there, she couldn’t hold back. No pretense of control. Just her body exploding and Chase staying at it, his tongue pushing her harder, faster and over the edge into a screaming orgasm that left her throat raw and her body humming as if an electric current were going through it. 

She was vaguely aware of Robert pulling himself up and entering her, triggering a second rush of sensation before the first one had even subsided. She wrapped her legs around his back, thrusting up against him, hoping he was getting as much pleasure as she had, but doubting it was possible. 

She heard him calling her name, groaning into her, around her, on top of her, until she screamed out “Robert,” and some other things she couldn’t remember. He collapsed on top of her, asking if she was OK, which struck her as odd until she realized she was laughing and crying at the same time. It seemed to take forever before she could stop doing either one. Eventually, she was just smiling and wondered if she’d ever be able to get that particular smile off her face. 

She opened her eyes to find Robert untying her hands and massaging the insides of her wrists. She made a grab for the tie. He jerked it just out of reach. She grabbed for it again. He pulled it back, dangling it over her body, running it against her skin, soothing instead of teasing. Finally he let her catch the tie, but then pretended to try and take it back. She held on tightly and he finally let her have it for keeps. Lindsay chuckled, as she scrunched the tie in one hand. 

She instinctively pressed herself around Robert’s warm skin. Now she could reach out and touch his hair, which seemed to fall in his eyes, no matter what position he was in. Now she could get some sleep. But she couldn’t.  
 _Gotta get up. Gotta go. Mac said to stay with him._ Her body had other ideas. It wanted to stay near Robert and get the rest it had been deprived of for over thirty-six hours. _Maybe a little nap would be OK._

She wanted to say something to Robert, before she drifted into blissful sleep, but couldn’t remember what it was. Oh yeah, something about playing with fire. She’d have to tell him later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party's over. Things get weird.

Harvey was ready to talk.

He’d been awake, and alert, listening to the sounds around him for hours. He knew he was in a hospital, but he didn’t know where. He knew time had gone by, but not how much. He didn’t know how many days he had been shuttling between awake and asleep and that scary place in between. 

Annette. They said Annette was dead. Murdered. They wanted to ask questions. He hadn’t been able to talk then. He’d gone somewhere inside himself so he wouldn’t have to talk to the nasty policeman who looked at him with so much disgust. Just like his parents. 

He remembered voices from one of the awake times. The same voices from when he was sick before. He’d heard the black doctor and Dr. House. He knew he was supposed to ask for Dr. House if something went wrong. He thought he’d been able to get it out before he went inside. Since he’d heard Dr. House, he must have done it. Annette would be proud of him. 

He’d heard other voices. The doctor with the accent. And a woman. Not just the sad doctor. Another woman. She had come to the office with the mean cop, so she must be a policewoman. Dr. House had been making fun of her and making a bet. Harvey smiled inside, but none of his muscles moved. 

He was ready to talk, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He strained to open his eyes. He tried to get his mouth to move or make a sound. He tried all night and nothing happened except making himself so tired, he went to sleep again and then ended up in the scary place and wasn’t sure he’d ever get out. 

Harvey woke up again. He felt better. He was ready to talk. He tried to open his mouth. Still nothing. But he felt stronger. He had to keep trying. He heard voices. The Australian accent and the policewoman. _I need to talk to you._ He still couldn’t get it out. All he could do was listen. 

“How are you feeling today?” 

“As they would say on the ranch, like I was rode hard and put away wet.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Normally bad. But if you’ve got the right rider…”

Harvey was confused. This didn’t sound like the conversation for a doctor and policewoman to be having in a hospital. Especially not when the woman started giggling. Then there was whispering and more giggling.

“And how’s our friend Harvey today?”

“Nothing. Still nothing. I’ve been here since noon. Thanks so much for letting me oversleep.”

“You needed it.”

“I told you to wake me up.”

“Doesn’t look like you missed anything. Let’s see how the patient’s doing. Hmmmm.”

He could hear the doctor approaching. He knew that the little light was being flashed in his eyes. He didn’t see or feel it. He just knew it. 

“What’s “hmmmm”?” 

“I’m not sure. His stats are up. I should go tell House.”

“Did he bitch you out for being late?”

“I wasn’t that late. And I got lucky. He was more interested in fighting with his ex-girlfriend.” 

“What’s she doing here anyway?”

“It’s a long story.” 

Why wasn’t Dr. Chase going to tell Dr. House about his stats? Why was the policewoman giggling again. 

“You really should have woken me up.”

“I told you…”

“But I told you, Doctor…”

“And what are you going to do about it, Detective?”

“I think you need to bend over and grab your ankles so I can show you.”

“Oh my god. Say that again. Just like that.”

_!!!!!!!_

“You’ve been very naughty. I want you to bend over and grab your ankles, so I can punish you.”

Harvey almost felt the spank before he heard the sound. His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light. The young doctor was bent over, hair falling in his face, grabbing his ankles as he’d been told. _Just like me after all._ The police woman using only her hand on his clothed backside. He could almost hear Annette calling her an amateur. He smiled and watched, enjoying the show. The policewoman’s face was flushed with exertion and excitement. He couldn’t see the doctor’s face, but he could hear the groaning. 

The policewoman looked up and caught him staring. She stared back, disbelieving, then frightened. “Oh my god, Chase!”

“What? Don’t stop now.”

“Chase. Get up. It’s Harvey.”

“What?”

“He’s awake, he’s looking at us.”

“Bloody hell. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dr. Chase got himself upright and came to his bed to shine lights in Harvey’s eyes. He tried to brush the doctor away. His arms worked. His hands worked. His eyes worked. Could he talk?

“Detective. I’m ready to talk.” Harvey heard himself speak. “I can talk. I want to talk to you. I know what you want to know. I can talk.” He was so happy. He would keep talking just to hear himself. To make sure he didn’t go to the scary place again

“OK, Harvey. I’m here. What do you know about who would want to kill Annette? 

She was all business now, with her notebook and pen. He told her about his parents and the phone calls and the threats and the man he’d seen outside the apartment. 

“But why was your medical file in the apartment.”

“Annette kept it to remind me. I wanted her to choke me again. She would make me look at what happened. The pictures. I still wanted her to do it. She wouldn’t.”

“OK, Harvey. You rest.” Harvey wanted to tell her that he’d rested enough, but now he had to talk. She went into the hallway to make a call. Dr. Chase came back into the room. Maybe he could talk to him, now that Harvey knew how much they had in common.

“How are you feeling, Harvey?”

“OK. Better. What did Dr. House do this time?”

“Pumped you full of nutrients mostly. I don’t understand it, but it must have worked. We’ll probably need to keep you a while for observation and neurology will want to look you over…Dr. Chase paused, clearly embarrassed. “Harvey, about what you saw…”

Harvey used every bit of his newly found muscle control to wink at him. 

@@@@@  
Lindsay was tired, but exhilarated when she returned to the lab.

“Good work, Detective,” Mac told her, with a tight smile, which was equivalent to a parade with a brass band down Fifth Avenue, as far as she was concerned.

Danny insisted on a high-five and a hug.

“Good going, Montana. We sent the Philly detectives in on the parents and they folded like a paper dragon. They claim they just told the guy to rough up Annette enough to scare her and make her throw Harvey out, so he’d go running home and be a good boy, and then things got out of hand. Jeez. They had to know that if something happened to Annette, Harvey would lose it. I can’t understand going after someone you’re supposed to love just because they happen to be a bit…you know, different.”

Lindsay shook her head wondering when Danny had become the spokesperson for peace, love and understanding. 

Flack came over with a notepad in his hand. 

“Hey you guys. We’ve got a d.b. in an elevator at the Mandarin Oriental. Let’s go.”

_So much for the parade. Another night; another body._

She was satisfied with her work on the Annette Raines case, even though she was out fifty bucks to Dr. House. He’d come limping down the hall followed by the rest of his lost souls and that smarmy Dr. Wilson, waving his watch in the air to let her know that Harvey had woken up less that twenty four hours after they’d made the bet. She wondered if there was any way to expense the money, since she hadn’t wound up needing a hotel room. 

She felt a blush come to her cheek and hoped Danny didn’t notice the smile. She reached into her pocket and touched the silk with a silent sigh. She still had Dr. Chase’s tie to remind her that it hadn’t been a dream.

@@@@@

 

Chase sensed trouble in the air. He knew House had lost interest in Harvey once his bet was won. There was no new patient and House was bored. A bored House was a dangerous House, especially for a doctor who’d gotten away with coming in nearly twenty minutes late only because Stacy Warner had barged into the office before House could commence a full-scale interrogation. Now House had the ball out and was tossing it up in the air, but his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

The clock said 4:45PM. House couldn’t risk venturing out of the office, for fear of Cuddy and her clinic of horrors. The three hostages were stuck with him. The ball kept going higher. On the next toss, House managed to turn on his iPod before catching it. _The bastard's toying with me,_ he thought, trying to focus on the New York Times crossword, even though the words kept blurring into sweaty visions of himself and Lindsay. He didn’t think Harvey had said anything, but House had that damn intuition.

Roger Daltrey's voice came blasting out of the speakers.

 **Out here in the fields. I fought for my meals. I put my back into my living.**

_I am so sick of this bloody song. How about some AC/DC for a change? If anyone’s on the highway to hell, it’s House._

The ball went up and hit the ceiling, which caused a change in the trajectory. House wasn’t able to get himself out the chair fast enough to intercept it. The ball bounced in and out of the sink and went rolling under a cabinet. House looked around the room at his prisoners as if to say “Well isn’t one of you going to fetch the ball for me?” Foreman rolled his eyes in disgust. Cameron clearly had to restrain herself from getting up to do it. She was still ga-ga over House, but attempting to act like someone with a spine. That left Chase, he grudgingly got up as if being more subservient would forestall the inevitable.

“You did the police chick, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Banged her like an oven door. Had carnal knowledge. Shtupped. Danced the horizontal mambo. Made the sign of the beast with two backs.”

“Would it be any of your business if I did?” Chase tried to put on a show of outrage.

“As a matter of fact, it would. Why do think I gave you so much alone time with the patient and the babe?” 

“Because you respect my medical skills?”

“Yeah, right. Even Foreman’s trying not to choke on that one.”

A quick glance at Foreman proved this to be true.

“What then?” 

“I figured the best way to get Harvey to wake up was to put the sounds of sex somewhere in his vicinity, preferable something nasty.” 

Cameron was getting that “Oh my god, I’m going to puke” look last seen after Chase had admitted to kissing Andie. 

“And what makes you think…”

“It’s all chemistry, Casanova. I figured if I left you alone with Pepper long enough, something would happen and you’d win my bet for me.”

“What about all those vitamins and electrolytes?” Foreman wanted to know.

“That was plan B. I wanted to beef him up a bit, but I was counting on Don Juan here to do the real work for me. So what kind of peep show did the lucky patient wake up to? Were you wearing the nurse’s uniform again? Something with rubber gloves?” House raised his eyebrows and practically rubbed his hands together in lewd delight.

_Tell me again why I put up with this crap? You were right, Lindsay. I must be a masochist. But I was right too. He is brilliant. And right now I think he’s bluffing. Brilliantly._

“Come on, Chase.” He pleaded mockingly. Inquiring minds want to know.” He changed to a stern father voice. “Don’t make me spank it out of you.”

Chase checked his watch. 5:00PM. He walked to the door and turned around beaming his most innocent smile at House, Cameron and Foreman who all leaned forward as if he were actually going to reveal something. 

“Promises, promises.” He said, and walked away.


End file.
